


Watching and Wanting

by DustToDust



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something different about the weight of these eyes. Something that makes Jason sit up and take notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching and Wanting

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [我以目光追随你 / Watching and Wanting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822502) by [blurryyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou)



Jason feels it almost from night one; eyes. He's being watched and the fine sense of paranoia he'd developed running the streets is telling him to get out of sight and stay that way because someone is _watching_ him. Which is stupid, because he _knows_ he's being watched. He's Robin. He's supposed to be visible and he's supposed to be drawing attention as he flies over the streets. He draws the fire and Batman comes up in the blind-spot.

That's how it works.

It doesn't stop Jason from feeling uneasy about the feeling that comes over him some nights. Not every night, and not the whole night. Just enough that Jason begins to think this is a _particular_ person watching him. It's different in some way that he can't really even describe to himself let alone Bruce who'd bench him until he found the source. Something that Jason dreads more than the mystery of it all.

Jason ignores it as best he can while making Gotham dentists very rich men.

~

Unexpected boners are a simple fact of life for guys Jason's age. Like all guys he's alternately embarrassed by and unashamed of when his body chooses to spring a tent in his pants. Unlike other guys, Jason has to deal with the potential deadly aspects of growing hard on patrol. The jockstrap that is really necessary when fighting cutting into things that it really shouldn't be, and the increased difficulty of swinging across the roofs when half of his blood isn't going to the right body parts.

Most of the time he can wait it out. Hunker down for a bit and think really hard about the shit that's happening while he's taking a break, or Brucie getting borderline pornographic with his latest airhead model in public. And the inevitable Alfred reaction to the pictures in the newspaper. Whichever settles it down faster.

Sometimes, though, he can't wait it out. Sometimes Jason's blood is burning in his body, and there's more groans of pain from criminals than there are screams for help. Sometimes he's just feeling too _good_ to wait it out. Sometimes Jason just has to find a high roof, shove the scales down, and wrap one gloved hand around himself. Has to pant and growl as he rubs one out right in the middle of the city. Under the open sky where anyone can see him do it. 

Where eyes can find him and watch as Jason comes all over his fist and the top of his uniform. Watch him lay there panting and blind to anything but how good it feels to squeeze his softening dick. The fact that Jason's sure he's not imagining the eyes is both exhilarating and terrifying. The fact that the nights he _has_ to take care of his problem are the nights when he can feel those eyes on him is something that he never really thinks about.

~

There'd been a file, neatly typed and informative, with the pictures Talia had all but thrown in Jason's face. A neat little biography and assessment of the new little soldier in Gotham. It takes Jason nearly a week to read the damn thing though without flipping out and doing more damage to his knuckles than the shit hole room he's hiding in. 

Timothy fucking Drake, his replacement, fits right in with the fucked up family Bruce has drawn around him. The assessment emphasizes the boy's intelligence, his quick thinking, but that's not the lines that repeat over and over in Jason's head.

_'-figured out identities at age nine.'_

_'Followed through the night without being seen-'_

_'-amassed a collection of photographs-'_

_'-stalked-'_

_'-watched-'_

Jason laughs. He laughs for the kid he used to be who was so _worried_ about invisible eyes. Eyes that belonged to some tiny creeper with a camera who probably would've pissed himself if Jason ever caught him.

 _Watched. Stalked._ Jason grins, bright and dangerous at the wall of photos and paper clippings. At the slightly grainy image of a razor sharp smile decimating some lowlife. "Who's stalking who now, Replacement?"

~

The kid's watching him. Jason can feel it even as he backhands the little fucker into a wall. Even as the kid stutters, obviously taken off his stride by Jason. His supposedly genius mind is kicking the hamster wheels hard enough for Jason to hear the squeak as he tries to get them going again, but he doesn't once stop _watching_ Jason.

It confirms everything that Jason's suspected, because the weight of those eyes is familiar. And he knows, even as the Replacement clings to consciousness, a pithy remark on his lips, that when the kid's not busy being shocked or beaten he's going to remember each and every bit of this fight. Every detail, every word. Every last bit of it.

Jason crouches over the bloody mess he's made and fails to draw a knife across the pale throat under the cape like he'd planned. "Huh," Jason has to move before he's ready to. Has to get the fuck out while he can, but he stays crouched over the kid for a minute longer. Taking in the details the photos couldn't capture and putting a face to it all before reaching out and ripping the --goddamn it was metal!-- bright R off of his chest.

~

The feeling of being watched comes back, and Jason knows it's the Replacement cautiously circling him. Sometimes it lasts only for a few minutes, and sometimes he's dogged the whole night. Sometimes he can go days without being watched, and sometimes he's followed four or six different times a night for a week straight.

Jason grins under his helmet and doesn't do one damn thing differently than he would if he was alone. Let the fucker see Jason for who he really is. Let him just try to come out of the shadows and stop him from putting a bullet into the greasy head of some child-raping piece of shit.

He doesn't though, and the big man doesn't come swooping out of the skies to attempt to 'reach out' again even though the feeling of being watched persists until the sun threatens to rise that night. Jason almost gives a bow to his audience of one. Imagining the look of shock on that perfectly controlled face if he did.

He doesn't though, because that's not how this stalking game is played.

~

The kid has some moves, Jason will grant that respect where it's due. He's all economic about it though. No wasted movement at all. Nothing like Dick who does it all for show and his own amusement. Not Bruce who mixes practicality with a showmanship that almost rivals Dick's. Definitely nothing like Jason who'll throw that extra snap in just because it makes him feel good.

Replacement does the exact minimum that he needs to do to get things done. Sure, sometimes that means a little extra omph, but that's all strictly for playing the part he has when he's with one of the big boys. Left to his own devices --something that happens far more often than it ever did in Jason's time-- he's all statue still and two hit knockouts with enough held back that Jason can _see_ the training he's repressing to do it.

And that? That's interesting as all hell to Jason.

Almost as interesting as watching the kid go home. Slip though an open window and strip with that same economy of motion. Hiding the bits of Robin away and pulling out something that's the absolute opposite of him.

Timothy Drake is a clumsy teenager who doesn't seem like he'll ever grow into his gangly limbs. He twitches and moves in aborted ways. Gets tangled in his own feet and smacks into every nailed down object between his room and the kitchen where he's greeted by laughter. It's the performance of a lifetime. Jason watches it through the cameras he's only gotten away with putting up --in every room but the kid's bedroom-- because Timothy Drake can't search his own house like Robin can, and Robin has no place outside of Timothy's room in the Drake household.

There's a bright, picture perfect smile on Timothy's face. Something straight out of those old black and white shows about perfect families that shouldn't fool any born and bred Gothamite. It's too good for the city, and anyone on the street would know to back the fuck away and start looking for the knife.

Jack Drake just eases into it and accepts it, which is nothing less than what Jason expects from someone stupid enough to not notice their own kid doesn't sleep in their bed at night. Dana Winters is a bit different. She's not rich enough to afford to turn a blind eye to the reality of Gotham and should by all rights know better, but she does it anyway. A deliberate act. She's ignoring her instinct, Jason can tell, because the image of the perfect little family is too important to her.

Jason watches them eat eggs off of perfectly white plates. Jack reading his paper, Dana talking to no one in particular, and Timothy sealing the mask on so tightly the seam is barely visible. It's perfect how the Replacement is more open and real with a mask than he is without one.

~

Jason starts occupying apartments again. Coming up from the bunkers and underground nests as the weather turns. Gets as pleasant as it can in Gotham. It's not as safe, but he'll take the danger over the creeping darkness that's been slowly driving him crazyier than normal. He puts up what security measures he can. The ones that won't be wasted on the fact that he's essentially bunking down in a building full of hustlers and crack addicts.

He's kicking a worn couch into place when he feels the Replacement watching him. The windows are dirty and have no curtains, and the angle he'd have to be at to actually look in puts the kid on a roof across the street. It's the closest they've been physically since San Fransisco.

The couch is directly across from the windows and Jason abandons his plans to tuck it into a blind corner. He sinks down onto it and stares at a point between the window and the corner. Most places have the couches facing the door, where visitors come in, but Jason doesn't expect anyone to visit him. Not anyone who'd use the door anyway.

A few springs poke through the worn cushions at one end, and there's a suspiciously moldy smell coming from the thing but it'll do. Jason stretches out across it. He's gotten everything done that he'd planned to already, and --regardless of Robin's presence-- he's only got one thing left to do.

He feels lighter and better already above ground, and when he flattens his palm over his dick he's not thinking about anything. Not thinking the dark and pretty depressing shit that he hasn't been able to shake for the last month locked up in a bunker that had felt like just another coffin at times.

Jason sighs as he hardens under the pressure and warmth of his hand. Normally, now is when he'd lose the jeans and really get to the interesting bits, but, as he rolls up against his hand, he can still feel the Replacement's eyes. Steady and unwavering. And why the fuck not? The creepy stalker's seen this before already. How many times had he caught Jason when the exhilaration of Robin had been to much for him to wait to go back to the Cave? Did he take pictures of that too?

Probably. Jason remembers the weight of the bastard's eyes too well from their little meet and greet.

A laugh chokes it's way out of his throat and Jason curls his fingers around the bulge in his jeans. Rubbing and massaging as one leg splays out to thunk on the ground. Giving him some leverage to thrust up into his own touch. He's going to come in his pants and it's going to be disgusting about three minutes afterwards, but he's not going to give in to the heavy weight of the stare he's getting. The freak'd probably _love_ to get an eyeful of Jason again.

Jason moans and squeezes harder, feeling his balls draw up more quickly than they should. He's going to shoot faster than he had with Talia soft and incendiary around him. Her fingers harsh as they pressed into him but her eyes tightly shut and not looking at him at all. Fast, just like he used to when he'd fall to his knees on a rooftop, already panting as he shoved his hand under his uniform. The weight of eyes watching him shake undone just that extra bit better then on the roofs as it is on his couch now. Leaving him panting and feeling the spread of wetness as his come soaks into the denim of his jeans.

Jason curses as he flips off the couch. Knees wobbling as he stalks to the window and throws it open to the empty night. The feeling of being watched gone even as he was coming so there's no one there to watch Jason nearly shatter his hand on the concrete surrounding the window.

~

Robin's not outmatched, but he is tired and possibly wounded. He rolls under a badly thrown punch and lists to the left when he comes up to punch out the man. There's more force there than needed and Jason can hear the crack of a jaw breaking even from up high. His casual stroll of casing warehouses interrupted when the next one he broke into proved not to be as empty as it appeared on the outside.

It's probably a concussion Jason concludes when one of Robin's punches nearly misses. Going just slightly off from where he needs it to be before obviously correcting himself. It takes more effort than it should and leaves the Replacement wide open for the big guy coming up behind him. Jason can almost feel the body shaking kick that sends the kid sprawling onto the grating of the catwalk he's on. He lays there for a split second before working his way up to his hands and knees. Head shaking as he tries hard to get up. The big guy is too close though, and he's not going to let that happen. Jason leans down to watch in interest as the thug raises one arm high. Holding something mean looking that makes Jason's entire being freeze the second he identifies it.

It's a crowbar.

Jason's on the man before he can even think, something cracking in the bastard's shoulders as he crumbles under Jason's boots. His face smacking with a wet crack into the metal when Jason follows through with a vicious punch to the back of his head. And another, and another. Until the man isn't moving at all and the crowbar clatters to the floor below.

He's panting and still growling a little as he stands back up. Hands warm with blood as he looks for Robin. He's gone, and the warehouse is silent again. Jason sucks in air between his clenched teeth. Even and measured as he deliberately pushes away the image of another Robin laid out under a crowbar. Breaths until he can forget the laughter echoing in his ears. Until he can remember that he doesn't like this particular Robin.

Jason wipes the blood off his gloves on the back of one of the still breathing men's shirt and walks out. Taking to the roofs and setting off away from the warehouse district. Robin's stumbling along a line of roofs a block away. He's so out of it that Jason doesn't think he even notices that he's not alone.

He certainly doesn't react like he should when Jason bodily yanks the bastard back from a swing that would've ended with a Robin pancake in the alley. "You're really fucked up, aren't you, Replacement?"

Robin sways under Jason's hands. Head tilting back and face moving around the mask in a way that he knows means the kid is blinking rapidly. Trying to focus on something when his mind's all scrambled and not making sense of anything.

He's going to remember shit all of this night. Jason likes that thought as he wraps an arm around him. Pulling Robin close as he readies his own grapple hook. Robin is several inches shorter than Jason, but he's not as thin or light as he appears. Jason's surprised at the solidness that lurks behind the armor he's holding onto. 

"This," Jason says, to himself mostly, as he sinks the line into a sturdy enough looking ledge, "is a one time deal. Next time we run into each other I'll hand you your ass again."

Robin says nothing the entire way to the pretentious home he shares with the most oblivious people ever. Jason leaves him on the bed that doesn't look right around the Robin costume. He lingers until he notices the cleverly placed cameras that almost certainly aren't Robin's.

~

Jason's got two hookers way to young to be doing what they do hanging off him when Robin drops by again. A week after the concussion and a week of dodging a particularly insistent Nightwing. The soft set of the man's mouth all the warning Jason ever needed to know that Dickie wanted to talk about feelings or some shit. Bruce himself had shown up just once. To give Jason an approving nod that left him seeing red and trying to put a bullet through the shadows where his fucking head had been. Jason should've just left the baby bird in an alley near one of the other's patrol routes.

Amanda reaches up to trace a line under the domino he's wearing tonight. Bold with wonder and safe in the knowledge that Jason's not going to do a damn thing to her. Kylie giggles, only a little brokenly, on his other side and wraps herself up in his arm more firmly. Small breasts pushing against his side in a way that'd be really distracting if he wasn't sure she's several years younger than the seventeen she claims.

They're flirting with him in an outrageously teasing fashion that they can't get away with normally. Not without having to pay for it in one form or another. All the prostitutes seem to do it when they're sure that it's safe. Jason's used to it. He was used to it even before he became Robin and all the women would coo and flirt with him. It's almost second nature now to wrap a working girl up in an intimate embrace that doesn't mean a damn thing more than she wants it to. Sure, there's genuine interest in the girl's eyes as they flirt and tug at his jacket, Jason's not blind, but it's mostly play for them. A way to assure themselves that Jason means what he's saying.

"You going to be fine?" Jason asks, dead serious.

Kylie ducks her head so that he can't see the glimmer as her eyes get wet. She doesn't say anything as she nods. Her sharp fingernails pricking against the exposed skin of his neck. She took the news of her useless fuck of a father's death well, but Jason's not sure the assurance that he's gone will be enough to get her off the streets and back home. He was the one who put his hands all over his own kid, but it was her mother's willful silence that let it go on for so long.

"I'll take care of her," Amanda says. A promise she seals with a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw that has to leave behind an orange streak of lipstick. Jason doesn't bother trying to wipe it away just yet. He's got a few more women to check up on and they all seem to find the smears funny.

"Didn't doubt that," Jason gives them both a charming grin that draws genuine blushes from them both and untangles himself from their arms. He melts into the shadows before flying away. Leaving Amanda to wrap Kylie up in a warm looking hug as she begins to cry for real.

Robin keeps up with him, closer than normal, and Jason almost wants to snap at the fucker to back off. To remember the rules of the game, but that urge gets lost when Jason lands on a roof and a second thump stops him before he can leap off to the next. Robin's not just bending the rules, he's _breaking_ them.

"The fuck," Jason spins with a snarl on the fucker who's giving him that _blank_ look, "do you want, Pretender?"

He really should've left him in an alley somewhere, or, better yet, smeared all over the side of a building. If he'd known he'd get this much attention from the entire family he would've.

Robin doesn't move away from his defensive crouch. Arms relaxed and ready for an attack, because he really is the smart one in the family. His face is a blank slate but the weight of his eyes is considering. The kid's still watching, and that makes no sense. It shouldn't be possible to stalk someone when you're face to fucking face.

"Nightwing found where you're staying," Robin eventually says. Right before Jason decides to throw a punch for the hell of it. "He thinks he can talk you into coming back," and there's just enough disbelief in that sentence to settle Jason a bit. To keep him back as the fucker continues. "That you're ready to turn over a new leaf. And-" Robin shakes his head and moves. Standing and drawing his line. "I know why you did it, and it wasn't for me or anyone else."

"Damn right it wasn't," Jason hisses to the back of the Replacement, because that's true and it irks him that the kid could see that. "Next time I'm just walking the fuck away."

"That's probably for the best, Red Hood," Robin says as he swings. His words floating in the air behind him as he flies away. Just far enough to be out of sight. His presences dogs Jason's steps as he finishes his patrol and hunts down a new place to settle into.

~

Timothy is wandering his kitchen. Except it's not really Timothy. He's moving too smoothly, too precisely. Not with the tenseness of Robin and not with the clumsiness of Timothy. He's alone in the place, and Jason wonders if this is Tim. If this is what he is when he's not wearing either mask.

Tim goes statue still, one hand reaching for the fridge but not touching it. Something thoughtful flits across his face before he reaches out and just, _presses_ his hand against the door. Not moving to open it. Jason perks up and leans in closer to watch this change. The disassembled pieces of a gun abandoned behind him.

A pink tongue darts out and swipes across a full bottom lip that the kid's been worrying with his teeth all day. Slow and deliberate in a way that lets anyone who sees it know Tim's doing it just to feel it. His head tilts, black bangs shifting as he assesses the empty room. The empty home. Jason can almost see the calculations as they fly through his head before Tim _moves_.

"Holy shit," Jason breathes because this is _not_ something he's seen before.

Tim is pure liquid as he moves out into the living room. The screen changing automatically as the next one picks up the movement. He's moving like he has no bones. Pacing the perimeter of the room, lightly touching things as he passes them. His eyes half closed and lazy looking except for the flush that starts high in his cheeks and spills down his throat. Tim's looking at everything except the couch even as he side steps toward it and spins away. 

It's a dance, a teasing dance filled with tension and energy that has Jason absolutely riveted to the screen. His breath stuttering as fingers dance across the back of the couch in a way that really shouldn't be as erotic as it is. The intent is as clear as Tim's eyes as he, as he-

 _Verifies that he's alone_ , Jason chuckles and wonders if he can see the camera in the vent. If he thinks it's another layer of security from Batman. Wonders if he even cares.

Tim slides onto the couch and his jeans are open in seconds. He's relaxed back into the soft looking leather, his legs spread, and head tilted back. Eyes almost slit entirely closed as he thoroughly licks his palm. Tongue curling around each finger and sucking a little at the tips before he reaches down. Fingers skimming over the shirt that hides muscle and scars, then dipping below what looks like a pair of boxers.

The cloth bulges in a telling way and the line of Tim's neck vibrates as his mouth falls open. His body still liquid as it rolls from his feet planted on the floor to his shoulders pressing into the couch. Languid and slow, the only thing still is his right arm. The fist in his pants that he fucks up into.

His eyes are closed completely, and his face is damn near blissful. Tim doesn't get tired, he doesn't get impatient. He's using every muscle he has to jerk off excruciatingly slowly and it's one of the hottest things that Jason's seen in a long while. His own dick is growing hard and pressing against his jeans, but it feels wrong somehow to reach down and take care of it now when Tim can't see.

Tim jerks and shudders suddenly, teeth coming out to clamp down on a noise that has to be louder than what he'd been making before. His whole body tenses and he goes perfectly still. Face drawn down into lines of the best pain possible before he relaxes. Pools down onto the couch in a limp mess.

His hand is glistening and wet when he draws it out to stare thoughtfully at it. Thumb and forefinger rubbing the mess together, and Jason wants to see him lick it off. Wants to see him clean his entire hand with an intensity that's almost physically painful when Tim only pulls out a towel --when had he picked that up?-- to take care of the mess.

Tim's zipped up and back in order in under a minute. The liquid dance gone from his body and nothing on his face to show what he's just done as he buries the towel in a load of laundry. Timothy comes out in bits and pieces as Jason watches. Swallowing Tim and whoever the fuck had been on the couch completely just as the front door swings open, and Timothy turns to give that picket fence smile to the parents as the washing machine chugs to life.

It's the strangest wank session Jason's ever seen, and it's absolutely perfect for the freak that Tim is.

~

Jason's not looking to work with them, with any of the masked crowd no matter how little they may be involved with Bruce. It happens though. Even with his own stretch of Gotham that the others don't dare cross into. Cases and leads take them all to different areas at the most opportune times. 

Jason's smashed his way through a gang meeting faster than he thought possible with Nightwing nipping at his heels. Trying to simultaneously get the intel he needs and pry some personal chit chat out of Jason. Packages arrive in places Jason's sure the postal service avoids for their own safety, and smell just faintly enough of Bab's familiar perfume that he's almost sure she never wears anymore for him to open it. It's always information and sometimes a small communicator that Jason holds onto for more minutes than he'd like before crushing. There's the silent presence of Batgirl who follows him sometimes through a particularly rough patch of gang wars. Not exactly close to him, just far enough away to take care of her own fair share of idiots. Once there'd been a box in an apartment that was far cleaner than he'd left it filled with pie, and the way Jason's chest _hurt_ made him drop it and flee. Leaving behind everything to find a new place.

Bruce never tries anything.

It's mostly Tim, Robin, that Jason finds himself working with. The weight of his eyes now the only warning he gets before the baby bird is perched on something and rapid firing a case at him before the gun even has a chance to clear its holster. Most of the time it's something that makes Jason listen. Drug deals and child sex rings. Organized things that need careful planning to bring down or the head of it all slips free to start all over again. Robin's already done the planning for those cases, and all he's asking for is a bruiser to help him bust it up. He's careful with it, of course. Leaving Jason to take out the muscle or free the captives while Robin goes after the real sick bastards that Jason knows he'd put a few bullets in just on principle.

Jason sneers at it all. He runs his mouth and baits the kid as much as he can, and Robin bites back. Hard. Pushes back when Jason lashes out.

The fucker's got a mouth on him when he's not being a good little Robin, and Jason can't help but think that's all Tim. That mysterious person who used to stalk Batman at night and jerks off on a couch when he's all alone. That thinks nothing of returning the knife Jason's just thrown at his head when he lands on the roof behind him.

"Vice has a rat in it," Robin doesn't flinch as Jason flips the knife and moves close enough to tap it against the high collar of his cape. It'll take a lot of effort to slice through the weave of the fabric there, but Jason could manage it and the kid has to know that. "They're busting a semi coming over the bridge in an hour with what they think will be a large shipment of heroin, but the real bulk of it's coming in through the harbor."

"Of course it is, that's where you go when you're dealing with rats," Jason presses slightly and likes that Robin doesn't flinch. The barely there smirk gets wider and Jason almost starts to cut then and there. Just to see what he'd do. "What've you got up your sleeve baby bird?"

"It's a very large shipment," and that grin is razor sharp and nothing like the Robin smiles. It's a Tim smile, and the faux innocent voice is all Tim as well. "Ever used a flame thrower on a thousand pounds of powdered cocaine before?"

Working with others is unavoidable --almost inevitable-- but sometimes it's worth it.

~

 _Unavoidable, inevitable_. Jason's not thinking about any of that in concrete terms when, months later, Robin melts into Tim and starts to stalk him across a roof.

Jason missed the tongue, darting out to swipe across bitten lips. He missed the thoughtful tilt of the head and the blatantly assessing stare. He doesn't miss when Robin's gait turns liquid as he turns on Jason. Side stepping and circling closer. His head angled away but Jason can still feel his frank stare as he gets closer. Slowly, seemingly casually. Except not, because Jason _knows_. Jason's watched and he knows.

More rule breaking, but Jason doesn't care anymore. Doesn't give a damn as Tim reaches out to _touch_ him with more than his eyes.

Fingers find their way under his jacket and trail around his stomach, across his side, and back before pulling away. Jason holds perfectly still as Tim flows around him in a dance that's become familiar, but only seen through the flat screen of a camera a dozen different times until now. He reaches out when Tim turns to make another circuit of the roof. Flattens his hand under the tease's cape, at the small of his back and waits for Tim to go boneless.

"You've been watching," Tim says as he lets Jason draw him in close, and even his voice is different. Lower, almost breathy as he settles against Jason's body. An almost perfect fit even with all the armor between them.

Gauntlet covered hands curve over Jason's shoulders and trigger the catches on the mask that he really shouldn't know about. It's bare fingers, though, that tangle into Jason's hair and tug insistently at him.

"You did it first," Jason says right against Tim's mouth. Swallowing the moan that comes from that and twisting them both to the ground. Pulling back just enough that the jarring impact with the roof won't cut their lips wide open.

Tim's legs spread wide, one hooking over Jason's thigh, pulling them together in a tight rub that's as painful as it's good. The cape gives under Jason's fingers and he sucks bruising kisses onto the pale skin there. A straight line of red right across his throat, ear to ear, that's entirely too satisfying.

Tim groans and rocks up. Moving to aline their covered dicks. The hard cup has to be killing him just as much as it's killing Jason, but Tim moans like it's the best feeling in the world. Jason rocks down to meet him. Hissing as the cup cuts into his erection painfully enough to stop being good. It takes more effort than it should to move one hand down enough to fumble with it. Shove and shift just enough to get free, to give his dick the room it needs and moan a little at how good his hand feels. At how good it feels to open his eyes and look down at Tim's panting face. His eyes laser sharp on Jason even through the white lenses of the mask.

"Yes," Tim hisses and he's moving. His own hands busy with the tights and belt he wears. The uniform folding open and down too easily for how much his hands shake as he reaches for Jason. Pulls his hand away and pushes his pants open. Bare fingers wrapping around Jason dick and pulling him out into the open.

Jason moans and pushes into the hand, flattens himself down so that Tim's dick is right up next to his. Separated only by Tim's hand. His hands slams onto the roof on either side of Tim's head, framing him as he rocks into the hold. "Hold us both. Come on just- Oh, fuck yes!"

Tim jerks as their dicks slide together in his hand, a little too dry but neither of them cares. His mouth falling open and head falling back. It's as pretty a sight in person as it is on a camera and Jason's kissing him hungrily. Sucking his tongue in and tasting everything he's had in the last hour or two. Taking every moan and noise he makes as Tim moves his hand around them. Sliding his fingers down them both and pushing them close together in a way that sets a damn light show off in Jason's head.

"Fuck, you-" Jason's panting when he breaks away. Hips thrusting in time with Tim's hand as he drags wet lips back down to his exposed throat. Nearly growling when Tim starts _twisting_ his hand on the upstroke. "Always fucking _watching_."

"Yes!" Tim hisses and there's no fluidity in his movement as he uses his free hand to hold Jason's head to his neck. His head angling down enough to watch between them. To watch their dicks spit precome over his hand. "Always, I-"

"Fucking felt it," Jason grinds down hard and Tim moves with it. A high noise escaping his lips as he shudders under Jason. Getting as close as Jason is. His mind detaches slightly and Jason's gasping words. Questions he's wondered for too long. "First time you got hard, right? Twelve years old and watching me jerk it on a roof. Did you even know what to do with it, or did you just learn from watching me?"

"Yes! Yes, I- fuck!" Tim jerks and shudders under him. Coming all over his hand and both their dicks, and Jason pulls back to watch the painful look pass over his face. Keeps thrusting his hips into Tim's hand, perfectly tight and slick, as broken sounds fall from him. Eyes wide open under the mask because Jason can _feel_ their weight on his face. And Jason groans deep as he thrust one last time. His own orgasm hitting him hard enough to blow his damn mind out.

He's still thrusting a little when Tim's hand slips away. Jason pulls back enough to look at the slick hand, and feels a little shaky as Tim holds it up between them. A familiar look of sated curiosity on his face.

"Taste it," Jason says, and his dick twitches uselessly as Tim obediently brings his fingers to his mouth. Opening up enough to suck two fingers in. A strangled moan coming out from him as Jason leans down and licks up the drops that escaped to the back of his hand. The bitter and salty taste gives way to Tim's mouth again as he surges up into a desperate kiss that leaves them both breathless and wanting again under the open skies of Gotham with no one to see but each other.


End file.
